


The Price of Peace

by Skylinneas



Category: Ace Combat, Project Wingman (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Angst and Tragedy, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Descent into Madness, Developing Friendships, Doomed Relationship, Drama, Explicit Language, F/M, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Multi, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29253006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylinneas/pseuds/Skylinneas
Summary: Leaving the lawless life behind, a new unlikely recruit has found peace living alongside the top ace squadron of the Pacific Federation. That peace is soon threatened by the ever escalating Cascadian Conflict, and the arrival of a certain mercenary team. How far will he go to keep this peace safe? (OC! Crimson Sqaudron)
Relationships: Original Male Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), Original male character(s)/Crimson 1
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	The Price of Peace

_They say every man has his price, but not every price is worth the man. True quality of someone can only be measured by how far they're willing to go for nothing._

_That's what you've taught us, right? That's why you gave me a chance to be here._

_Everybody knows how much you despise mercenaries…with everything they did in the war fifteen years ago. 'The lowest scums of the Earth, even the Dust Mother herself will spit them back out and barred them from the flames of rebirth for the rest of their pathetic existences', that's what you used to say about them. I'm not a religious person so I don't really know how much of a curse that would be when you put it like that, but I can guess from your tone that you don't think very highly of those people, not at all._

_Which makes the reason why you accepted me, of all people, into your ranks all the more surprising._

_What happened to that man you used to be back then?_

* * *

"Why should we let this man join us, boss? He's a mercenary. A scoundrel! Did you forget what people like him did to us in the Oceania War?"

Hamilton, your charming second-in-command, said with venom in his voice, on that day ten years ago when I first arrived at your base, never mind the fact that I wasn't even a mercenary anymore at that point. I guess the stigma never really goes away, considering everything we did.

"Settle down, Hamilton. If boss didn't think that this guy could be useful to our cause then he wouldn't even be here in the first place. Have you seen his combat records?"

And then there's the ever-lovely Rena. She's probably the friendliest face in a squadron full of hardasses like yours. An angel in all but name. Hell, I'll even bet that it was probably thanks to her good word that convinced you to give me a chance.

"Records mean nothing. I want to see what he can actually do up there for myself." Dumitru, an old guard with scars that could tell stories of their own, said as he kept his sharp eyes locked on me – as if he's observing my every move to figure out what kind of person I am. I can already tell that everyone in the squadron respect his judgment, even you. He's been flying before many of us were even born, after all. That being said, you still have the final say in everything.

"Look, I know the lot of you don't trust me on account of my background, but believe when I say that I want to leave all of that behind," I told them, not expecting to convince anybody, but it's not like I had too many choices, "The Mediterranean War was an ugly business, and some of the things I did…hell, scratch that, most of what I did…let's just say that I have many sleepless nights thanks to them. I had to do it because I needed money to settle debts. You know how ruthless the bounty hunter guild is. I'd be a dead man walking if I hadn't taken that job."

"Poor excuse. The Federation could have offered you protection from the guild if you joined us, yet you didn't." Yet another hardass, Markov, growled from behind me, "You had the choice to do the right thing, but you picked the easy way out. How could we trust you not to turn on us when things get too hot?"

"Why the hell would I turn on the best pilots in the world? I'd rather face bounty hunters than going up against the Peacekeepers. Everyone with a brain knows that. I might be hungry for money, but I'm not stupid." I replied, barely containing the irritation in my voice, "And you guys don't even know me or what I've been through in the Periphery. If joining the Federation was an option I could choose back then, don't you think I would have taken it a long time ago? Not everybody is born with silver spoons in our mouths like you Feds, you know?"

Hamilton looked pissed. Struck a nerve, didn't I? Could read guys like him like an open book. Before he gets any idea, though, you finally stood up and cleared your throat, and the whole room was silent.

"They say every man has his price, but not every price is worth the man. True quality of someone can only be measured by how far they're willing to go for nothing."

Those words you've spoken that day still echoed in my mind until now.

"Here in the Peacekeepers, the peace itself is your only reward. Peace under the Pacific Federation's guidance. The world after calamity is a fragile place ready to break apart at any moment, and unless we come together stand united as one, then the Dust Mother's blessing that has given us a new chance at life would've been all for nothing. That's the entire reason why we exist. We're here to keep the peace that the Federation has created for the world, no matter the cost."

Your words were calm and filled with conviction, like a priest reciting a sermon. I don't know if you do this to every potential recruit or just me in particular, but it's pretty clear that you genuinely believed in everything you said. If it was any other person, they'd probably call you a true boy scout of the Federation.

But not you. Not the top ace the world has ever seen. Not Crimson 1.

"I don't care who you are or what you did. All of that doesn't matter now." You continued, "You're here for a clean slate, you can have it, but you can never again fight only for yourself. There's not a single Peacekeeper who hasn't sacrificed. We all fight for something bigger than ourselves, and that is the safety of the Federation and her people. As long as her flag still flies high, then there is hope for peace yet, and peace is always something worth fighting for. Can you live with that?"

As soon as you finished, every pair of eyes in the room turned to face me, eagerly waiting for my answer. Some, like Rena, sprouted small smiles of encouragement, while others like Hamilton and Markov still had that disdainful expression, but it was only you whose expression I cannot tell. You hated mercenaries with a passion, yet here you were, actually giving me a chance to prove myself, to see whether I had the potential or not.

"Yes, I can."

* * *

_That was the day I joined the prestigious Crimson Squadron; a collection of the finest fighter pilots the world had ever seen. All my life up to that point, I never expected to be the best of anything. Hell, I wasn't even the best pilot in the Mediterranean War, yet here I was, flying among the top aces of the world._

_It took some time getting used to my new wingmen. You should know. Half of them already hated me right off the bat, and there were more than a few cases of black eyes. I actually liked picking fights with Hamilton, you know? Guy's an asshole, but it's thanks to him that I learned you don't need both eyes to fly effectively. I guess he probably learned the same lesson from me, too._

_Rena was something else, though. She and I bonded together almost immediately after the first few sorties. On the ground, she was the heart of the squadron, always keeping our spirits high and tampered our clashing personalities. On the air, though, she was fierce and precise. Not a single target escaped her sight, and she rarely missed her mark. I actually felt pity for her would-be enemies._

_Another close friend of mine was Ilya, a pretty cool fellow who hailed all the way from Magadan. He and I usually had friendly competitions in the sky trying to get the most targets. As friendly as he was, the man was an absolute beast in the skies. We all saw how he took out two air cruisers on his own while the rest of us were occupied with enemy fighters, which was not something to be taken lightly. On the ground, we tried to get away as much as possible in making Hamilton and Markov's lives hell…without overstepping your leniency, of course._

_And then there was you, the famous Crimson 1. Aces like you are one of a kind. The kind that can singlehandedly win wars. The kind that takes an entire country to gang up on them to even make it a fair fight. The kind that's destined to make their mark in history itself._

_All of these weren't what you cared, though. Like you said, fame isn't the reason why you fly. People sang praises for your extraordinary flying skills, but few really know that your true strength lies within something you believed in. When you fly, you never hesitated, never held back, never let anything get in your way of upholding the Federation's ideals and the peace they provided. Those things meant everything for you, and you will fight like a man possessed by generations of ace pilots to keep them that way._

_For a time, you were an icon of inspiration for all of us, the shining example of the best humanity has to offer. For a time, everything was alright in the world._

_For a time..._

* * *

"Hot damn, that furball was epic as heck! Like diving into fireworks! Haven't had this much fun since Sicily."

I spoke out loud as soon as we were flying back from engaging with insurgents at Denali Peak. We were escorting an air cruiser carrying some important general through contested airspace with anti-Federation forces, mostly members of the Cascadian National Guard. It was supposed to be an easy assignment, but it turned out high command had vastly underestimated the enemy air power. Before anybody could realize what was going on, we found ourselves in a furball. Trails of missiles filled the skies in a chaotic mess as dozens of planes flew at a range close enough where they could accidentally fly into each other. By all accounts, this is the worst scenario imaginable for a fighter pilot.

Just another day at work for Crimson Squadron.

"Careful now, boy. You keep flying like that and you'd die real soon," Dumitru huffed, "You think this is some kind of game where you just go out there to have some fun before calling it a day? You're not a merc anymore, so stop acting like one."

"Come on, grandpa. Give him a break. From what I've seen, he did pretty good out there." Rena came to my rescue once again. Heh, what would I do without her?

"And we got the job done with no casualties, too." Ilya added, nodding in agreement with Rena, "Isn't that what really matters?"

"Yeah, until the next time one of us crash and burn because someone got overconfident," Camilla, the only other lady in Crimson and Rena's polar opposite, said stiffly, "We don't know what we'll run into out there. In the skies, anything can happen, so you better stay on your toes at every moment. Any mistake is fatal not only for you and your friends, but for the entire war effort."

"Geez. Aside from Rena, can't any of you take things easy once in a while?" I muttered, "What about you, captain? You ever take things easy once in a while unlike these a-holes?"

Hamilton and Markov stared at me like I just punched a crocodile in the mouth. Maybe I actually did, I don't know. If that was the case, though, then you took it in stride. Goddamn it, you actually chuckled a bit. Don't know if you saw the looks on those jackasses' faces when you did but damn, their collective jaw drops were a sight to behold.

"You can't get to where I am without taking it easy once in a while. The sheer pressure in this line of work will break you completely otherwise," You explained, "Flying for hours and hours without stopping, going on sorties after sorties without even getting basic repairs, and our enemies want nothing more than ripping our spines out, you can't fly with all these problems already flying in your mind. A split second of distraction can mean life and death out there, so it's imperative that we take a break every chance we get. Relax your body and clear your mind. Have fun with friends. Enjoy the little things in life. They might not seem much, but trust me, you'll live longer that way."

"What about you, captain? What do you enjoy the most?" Hamilton asked, for once saying something I actually agreed with.

You shrugged with a slight grin, "I enjoy seeing my friends alive and happy. That's all I need."

* * *

_Somewhere along the line, you've forgotten all of that._

_Maybe it was the war with Cascadia. Maybe it was that mercenary group that gave us hell every time we face each other in battle._

_Especially that pilot…the one with the Crown._

_When we heard that Crosstalk Squadron, all formidable pilots in their own rights, were completely annihilated by one of the mercenary groups that fought for Cascadian Indepedence Force, we all knew that we weren't up against amateurs and prepared accordingly. Still, we were confident that we could take them on. Sicario Mercenary Corps was an infamous name back in my mercenary days. Though they did a pretty good job hiding their private info, I know enough about how they operated, and I told you guys everything I know to better our chances should our paths crossed._

_You said so yourself: those mercs fight for nothing more than the next paycheck. They don't know the true strength you could get by having something worth fighting for. The ideals that push us forward through any great odds. They will cower at the sight of proper pilots like us._

_We thought we were ready. Even you thought you were ready._

_But we weren't ready for him._

_Yellowstone…that was the moment when everything started to go to hell…_

* * *

"Shit, I'm hit!" Rena shouted out in a panic. Her plane was hit by a lucky shot from the enemy: a lone mercenary pilot who stayed behind to cover for his wingmen's retreat.

We all thought that we had him in the bag: there was only him alone versus eight of us, and he was flying an inferior plane as well. Our underestimation almost cost us Rena. She mentioned that her bird might be sluggish due to being low on fuel due to the constant sorties we were sent up on, and the enemy noticed this – he went after her first.

What was supposed to be our greatest strength became our liability: numbers. Despite having him outnumbered, he used that against us by staying on Rena's tail like a rabid dog, preventing us from having a clear shot without risking friendly fire in the process. All he had to do was wait until she made a mistake.

"Status report, now!" You ordered sternly, "Talk to me, Crimson 4!"

"My left rudder's jammed! There's smoke all over the engines!" Rena replied frantically.

My eyes immediately scanned the area. Bailing out now is absolutely suicide: there was nothing but lava down below, and you knew it as well.

"Hrm!" He grunted frustratingly, "All pilots, disengage. I'm not risking any losses because of this bloodthirsty dog. We've done all we can…We're getting out of here."

Ilya and I knew our jobs. We approached the enemy from his flanks, taking potshots at the bastard. We only had to get him out of Rena's tail before he could take another shot. The ploy worked…or maybe he was just humoring us, I don't know…and he flew away. We both took positions right behind Rena's plane, acting as her shield. If he comes back, he'd have to go through us first. He didn't.

"Seems like the rest of them ran with their tails tucked between their legs." Hamilton noted.

"Yeah, except for that one…" You replied, his voice was uncharacteristically low.

"He put up quite a fight, didn't he?" Dumitru asked, intrigued to learn more about the challenger.

"He got lucky. That's all. RTB."

That was your only answer.

Nobody said a word during our silent trip back to base, even though we all had hundreds of thoughts running in our minds. How could we say anything? That we got bested by a mere merc, all alone by himself?

We were silent even during dinner in the mess hall, which had never happened before since I joined, not even the time when Hamilton and I almost got each other killed during a mock-up battle. Rena's beautiful smile that was usually present on her face was replaced by a somber look. She couldn't bear to look anyone straight in the eyes. Camilla offered her a plate of salmon, her favorite food, to cheer her up, and it didn't even change her expression one bit. I can't lie, it hurt to see her like this.

"Rest well tonight. Starting tomorrow, when we're not on sorties, we're doing mock-ups." You announced after dinner, "I want all of you to be ready at all times. No excuses. When Crystal Kingdom reports the next sighting of those mercs, we'll go after them. And they won't get away from us this time."

There was no compassion in your voice, only bitterness. Your expression remained calm, but your eyes betrayed your true feelings. You were angry. Furious, even.

That pilot somehow got under your skin, and now you wanted his blood.

* * *

_Monarch_.

_That was the name, wasn't it?_

_The merc with the Crown. The only person who made you lose your cool._

_If it had been anyone else, you wouldn't be this upset. In fact, you were always looking forward for a tough opponent who could really test your skills in battle. You respected everyone who managed to give you a good fight, even if you always ended up on top every time._

_But it just had to be this guy…a mercenary. The one thing that you hated the most in this world._

_Someone that I used to be._

_Since that day, every time you looked at me, you had to resist yourself from cringing, and I think I figured out why: I was a walking reminder that you can't win them all. I was a mercenary a long time ago, but I managed to break away and redeem myself under your guidance. I was your greatest proof that the Federation ideals you believed in so strongly worked. That even the lowest scums of the Earth like me can repent from our sins and be baptized in the Dust Mother's flames, beginning our lives anew under the golden sun._

_But Monarch's existence changed all that. His arrival shook you to your core because he made you doubt the Federation's integrity. He showed that it was fallible. The fact that he went up against us – the symbol of what the Federation stood for - and not only survived, but almost bested one of us, was all it took for the Cascadians…no…for the world to learn that we weren't invincible, and for the first time since the Calamity itself, we were genuinely threatened. And if the Federation is threatened, then it's only a matter of time before people start to lose faith in the peace we provided._

_Monarch wasn't just an opponent for you. He's a threat to everything you held dear, and you could never rest easy knowing that he's out there somewhere still drawing breath._

_For two months, you lost sleep waiting to hear new orders from Crystal Kingdom to go up there and engage him again. You followed his exploits like it's an obsession: the capture of Eminent Domain…the loss of an Intercept Specialists Squadron at Zhirov Air Corridor…the solo night assault at Wensleydale Range…the destruction of the Solana Communications Array…_

_Behind every Federation loss, Monarch was there. Every time you learned about how he yanked victory from the Federation forces and gave the Cascadians more reasons to resist us, your eyes lit up like a raging fire, and you pushed us harder and harder during mock-ups as a result. The fact that you did warn all your allies not to underestimate those mercenaries and prepare accordingly and yet it wasn't enough was only a fuel to the fire._

_By the time Crystal Kingdom finally came through and ordered us to engage them at Bering Strait, everybody could see that you were barely holding yourself together. We went there anyway. How could we not? Aces like him were the entire reason we existed. It was inevitable._

_That was the point of no return. The beginning of the end…_

* * *

By the time we arrived at Bering Strait, things had already gone to hell. The largest furball in history – as it was later called - ended with our air force utterly crippled. Crystal Kingdom threw almost everything they had at them, yet they weren't enough to take down that crowned pilot.

And we were the next to be tested.

Our planes weren't in the best condition as well since we had to be redirected from another theatre of war to this place. No time to rearm and refuel and even basic maintenance. And yet you didn't hesitate at all to jump at the chance of fighting the Crown fighter again.

"Crimson Squadron, ready MLAAs. We're putting an end to this party."

You didn't even wait to hear confirmations as you increase your plane's speed and propelled forward. You've waited long enough for this moment, and you were determined not to let it go to waste.

I scanned the sky ahead of me and saw exactly what we were looking for. Three planes. Three mercenaries, unleashing hell on our remaining fighters. The leader – the one who almost shot Rena down – was dancing gracefully through the missile trails as if they were mere annoyances – his distinctive Crown emblem shone brightly against the midday sun, as if announcing that the entire sky was his kingdom and boldly daring his opponents to come and try to take it.

"Looks like it's those mercenaries. Think they might turn tail and run again?" I asked.

There was a brief pause, followed by a cold reply from you, "Not this time. Open fire."

Things descended into chaos almost immediately. Trails of missiles filled the skies. Bullets flying everywhere as fighters engaged in vicious dogfights. Yet another furious furball began once more as both sides gave all they got to decide once and for all who ruled the sky.

"Crimson, focus on the mercenary IFFs. They're the backbone of the Rebel air force." You ordered, even though we already realized what we had to do. You were just that focused on taking them down. We decided to humor you anyway.

"ID on one: the jester." Camilla announced. She and Rena went after that particular mercenary. He – or rather she – was the most aggressive of the mercenary trio, and she gave both of them as good as she got while taunting them all the while. It was obvious that she had it in for us just as much as we wanted to do her in.

"The fighter with the peace symbol on it. Tag him." Hamilton spoke before he and Markov immediately moved in on their target. He wasn't aggressive as the jester, but he made up for it with his resourcefulness. He made use of the cloud covers below to avoid their relentless assaults, setting up his own ambush once he had a chance in the meantime.

"I'm on the leader. The one with the Crown."

Unsurprisingly, you took on the Crown himself. This was your fight and yours only. Nevertheless, the rest of us: Ilya, Dumitru, and I decided to cover you anyway. We were all itching for payback for what he did to Rena back at Yellowstone ourselves.

Once again, we thought our numbers would be an advantage, and once again, we couldn't be more wrong. The Crown flew as if he didn't even care that there were four enemy aces pursuing him with murderous intent, and instead went on to pursue weaker targets: the other surviving Federation planes. Their attempts to rally behind us to better their chances were smart, yet ineffective in the end. Missiles upon missiles we fired at Monarch all missed as he pulled maneuvers after maneuvers that shouldn't even be possible. It was as if we weren't fighting a human at all, but rather some demonic being who's an embodiment of death and destruction.

Eventually, there were only a handful of allies left. The mercenaries, backed with what was apparently the entire Cascadian Air Force, turned the tide on us. Before we even knew it, we were outnumbered four to one. The numbers advantage that we had earlier was all but gone.

The Crown then finally turned his attention towards one of us: Markov. He was too busy chasing down the peace symbol fighter to notice that there was now another enemy on his back.

"Goddamn it!" Markov grunted angrily.

He was forced to break off the pursuit, doing his best to avoid being targeted by Monarch. He was only second to you when it comes to tricky evasive maneuvers, yet the Crown still managed to match him move to move. He didn't even bother with achieving a missile lock. All he had to do was getting into the machine gun range, before unleashing hails of bullets on our comrade.

"This is Crimson 8, I can't…!"

Markov's frantic shouts were cut off by a static as his plane exploded. The flaming debris of scrap metals fell beneath the clouds into the icy cold seas below. There was no parachute deployed.

"Crimson 8 is down!"

"Who was that?! Who shot him down!?"

"What the hell just happened!?"

Radio chatters were crazy. Confused shouts and wails that even I could barely tell what was going on. All of us couldn't believe what we were seeing. One of our own was shot down…by a mercenary. The impossible had happened.

Amidst the confusion, Monarch went after Dumitru next. The old man put up a good fight, but he was breathing hard through the radio. This fight was straining his aging body to its limits, and Monarch's aggressive flying was too much for him. He was the next to go down, but fortunately he managed to bail out in time.

"Adjust attack patterns and reform! We'll make them pay for that!" Hamilton announced before breaking off from his target to pursue the Crown instead. That proved to be his undoing. The last thing you should ever do as a fighter pilot is leaving an able opponent go in favor of another target. Before he knew it, the peace symbol fighter turned back and pursue him instead. When Hamilton tried to return the favor, his opponent flew out of his range. This game of cat-and-mouse was bound to end badly sooner or later.

"ACS failure!"

A stray missile shot from Monarch hit Hamilton's plane out of nowhere, and he lost control. He barely managed to eject out of it before his plane spiraled into another poor sod who was flying nearby. Both planes were then turned into scrap metals.

"Do you even understand what you're even doing!? You're getting in the way of world peace!"

You were getting desperate. Even though you were on his back the entire time, you failed to even land a single shot on the Crown. When weapons did not work, you resort to words, hoping that even for the slightest bit, it could distract the enemy into making a mistake. It didn't work. Maybe Monarch didn't even hear it. Maybe he didn't even care. All it did was frustrating you even more than you already were.

Camilla was his next target. Monarch pursued her like a wild dog, trying to shoot her down. Camilla wasn't going to let him had her that easily, though, and she pulled fancy moves that went above and beyond what I thought she was capable of. For a brief moment, I thought that maybe she was actually a better fighter than even the Crown himself…

Then Ilya moved in to try to finish the enemy off while he was distracted, and I realized just how horribly wrong I was. It was a trick. A clever ruse. While everybody thought he was pursuing Camilla, in reality he was just luring other pilots into where he wanted them, and Ilya fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

"Holy sh-!"

Ilya didn't even finish his sentence before a missile from Monarch's plane launched straight into the cockpit. Poor bastard didn't even have a chance to bail out.

That was the last straw. I pushed my engines to its limit, ignoring the missile alerts from other enemy planes. They didn't matter to me anymore. All I had on my mind at that moment was to get even with the bastard who killed my friend. As if he read my mind, Monarch couldn't have picked a worse target as his next victim to torment me further.

"This is Crimson 4, the enemy is on me!" Rena cried out, "I can't shake him!"

"Hold on, Rena. Hold on!" I shouted out in a panic. I couldn't think straight. I couldn't even focus on the enemy enough to even get a target lock. All I was thinking was that I had to protect Rena. I've already lost Ilya. I couldn't lose her too.

"Disengage, Crimson 4. Get out of there!"

"I can't! He's too fast!"

"Crimson 5 and 7, converge on the target!"

"Damn it, I can't get a lock!"

"Captain, help! Anyone!"

"Deploy flares, Crimson 4!"

"They aren't working…I'M HIT! I'M HIT!"

"Just bail out, Rena!"

"The canopy's jammed! I can't…! I'm sorry-"

* * *

_Her last words still rang loudly in my mind even to this day._

_We could only watch on helplessly and Rena's plane caught fire by the Crown's killing shot, plunging into the clouds below in a flaming inferno. We were too numb to do anything. It was like a nightmare coming true. The worst thing we feared had happened. Crystal Kingdom issued a full retreat order not long after, but you weren't having any of it. Monarch had made this personal for you. You wanted his blood and you wanted it now._

" _Tell them we have them! Just keep sending reinforcements! Don't take this from me!"_

_Those were your exact words, if I remember correctly. You outright shouted at your superiors, begging them to send more help, but they told you that they had none to spare anymore, and there was no point. We already failed in our mission to protect the transports. They'd be just sending men to die for nothing._

_We lost, plain and simple. There was no denying it. You mumbled 'no' again and again, trying futilely to avoid swallowing the bitter truth, but it didn't change anything. In the end, you finally relented and complied with the retreat order. The icy cold winds of the arctic storm clouds that we used to mask our escape was only rubbing salt in the already big wound._

_Only three of us survived back to base: Camilla, you, and me. The rest were gone. Dumitru managed to eject but his failing body couldn't survive the rogue waves and below zero temperature in the straits, and so did a lot of hapless souls who were shot down beforehand. The freezing cold water meant it was unlikely to be any survivor. Hamilton was among one of the few to be rescued by a patrol boat, but he was out of condition for a long while._

_There were over a hundred Federation pilots who fought in that battle, only a handful managed to make it back._

_But that's a lie, isn't it? None of us really made it back that day._

_We all lost a part of ourselves in that battle. Especially you._

* * *

"What do you mean the prototype isn't ready yet? It's been three weeks!" You almost yelled into the radio 'negotiating' with a representative of Icarus Armories, a weapons manufacturer company with a rather…dubious reputation. They were contracted by the Ministry of Defense to work on perfecting the weaponized Cordium-based technology on a privately-funded research facility somewhere in Scarred Sea…which, of course, fell under attack by none other than your most hated enemy.

"I don't want excuses, doctor. I want results. That bitch had better get some useful combat data fighting those mercs or I'll kill her myself, so help me. I'll have one of my pilots pick up the prototype at Sawaiiki soon. It had better be there in one piece or I'll swear the Cascadians will be the least of your problems when this is all over."

You slammed the phone back angrily as soon as you finished, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself, which frankly didn't work out that much. These past three weeks, it felt as if you weren't all there most of the time, constantly pacing around the base mumbling something to yourself or otherwise making phone calls to someone that you didn't feel like telling your own wingmen about. One thing was clear, though, this sudden change in behavior was due to the massive loss we suffered at Bering Strait.

We were worried. Very worried. It said something that I cared more about how you felt than Hamilton's sorry state in the ICU wing.

"Report to the hangar in ten minutes. We're doing another mock-up battle." You announced, even though we had just returned from a particularly draining sortie in Solstitium. Camilla had a weary expression like she could pass out at any minute now. I decided I had to say something, for all of our sakes. I summoned what was left of my willpower and finally spoke out to you.

"Captain, please! Camilla can barely stand right now, and you haven't had a decent sleep for three days!" I told him the truth. Somebody had to, "You're like a half-robot at this point. You can't fight if your body's not at your best. Isn't that what you taught us!?"

"The enemy won't wait for us to be ready, lieutenant!" You retorted sternly, "Vicious wolves like them don't care if you're weak. They'll eat you up alive all the same. The least we can do is to stay vigilant and always be prepared. I'm doing this for your own sake!"

"But we were ready, damn it!" I raised my voice, not even caring that I was basically being insubordinate to you right now, "We were ready as we'll ever be back at Bering Strait. We went up there knowing full well what the enemy is capable of and what we're capable of. Whatever happened out there was not your fault!"

I was already expecting it to happen. Still, it didn't make it feel any less painful when you struck a fist into my left eye, sending me slamming into the floor. I should be used to eye punches by now with all my constant fights with Hamilton, but a punch from you somehow hurt far worse.

"Never speak to me like that again." You gave an ultimatum, your voice low and distant as there was a cold look from your eyes, "The entire Pacific Federation is counting on us to protect them, and you know what they saw that day? Their best hope at victory getting slaughtered…like flies! We're the best this country has to offer, and yet we turned tail and ran like cowards! The situation is unacceptable. Either we push ourselves even further or we can all die trying. Those are your only choices! I won't let my friends die in vain, and so should you!"

"Yeah…and they were my friends, too!" I mumbled, shaking my head to drive away the pain and some tears as I struggled to stand up with Camilla's help, "And believe me when I say this, Camilla and I wanted payback as much as you do…but respectfully, sir, it can't happen like this. The fact is none of us are in any condition to train right now and deep down you know it. To push on anyway and risk straining our bodies to the limit until they break down when we needed them most will be doing a disservice to our friends, sir."

Miraculously, that managed to shut you up for a moment. Seeing an opportunity, Camilla quickly added.

"They would've wanted you to be ready, captain…Markov, Ilya, Dumitru, Rena… They wouldn't want us to go out there while we're exhausted like this. We'll just end up getting ourselves killed, and their deaths would've been for nothing."

For almost a minute, we just stood there in silence, not even caring for dozen pairs of eyes from the base personnel staring at us. Eventually, you finally relented with a deep sigh.

"Two days. Then we're back to business as usual." You ordered, "We still have to wait until the package from Icarus Armories arrived at Sawaiiki, anyway, so there's not much we can do by ourselves right now."

"What was that supposed to be, anyway?" Camilla asked, "You've been talking to those Icarus techs on the phone for quite some time now. What is Project Wingman?"

"You'll know it when you see it, Camilla. And that, by the way, is going to be your next assignment."

Camilla was surprised by this sudden development, as did I.

"What assignment, sir?" We asked simultaneously.

"Go to Sawaiiki Harbor and bring that prototype back here. Avoid engaging enemy forces if possible: that thing's supposed to be our top secret. If you have no choice, make sure there are no survivors," You explained, "With luck, this could be the edge we sorely needed in the battle against Cascadia."

I was tempted to say 'and the fight against the Crown mercenary' but I figured one punch from you was enough for the day.

Still, I can't help but worry about this 'Project Wingman' of yours and all the secrecy surrounding it. There had been lots of secrets and hush-hush going on in the Federation lately. All of which hinted at something big…and probably highly dangerous.

I have a bad feeling about this.

* * *

_If only Camilla and I had realized just what madness you and the Federation were up to…_

_Camilla recovered Project Wingman from Sawaiiki just like you ordered her to, right when Task Force 1 fell under attack by the Cascadian mercenaries. A major surprise attack on our largest aerial fleet just had to happen the same day she was supposed to bring that prototype back? I don't think that was just a mere coincidence._

_And I was right._

* * *

"Task Force 1 was nothing more than a goddamn diversion," Camilla mentioned to me in secret after she got back from the Core, "Crystal Kingdom knew that it was a target that the Cascadians cannot ignore, which means it'll have their full attention, a perfect smokescreen for me to take the prototype out of there without getting noticed."

I couldn't believe what she said at first, even telling her that's a lie. There was no way that the Federation would sacrifice our largest battlefleet and its countless soldiers for only one plane. Even if that thing is capable of winning us the war, the cost was too high.

"Don't you think I know that!?" Camilla almost screamed in my face, "Don't you think that any of this bothered me, too?! Hundreds of soldiers died over there just so I could fly that thing home, and I don't even know what it's capable of! But it's the captain's orders. What the hell am I supposed to do about it?!"

Camilla took a deep breath to collect herself. She lowered her head and stared straight at the floor below, but her eyes were empty, lifeless.

"While I was at the Icarus Armories facility back in the Core, I heard rumors that a large supply of cordium warheads is being shipped to the frontlines," She said in a soft voice, almost like a whisper, "Crystal Kingdom is planning something big. I'm sure of it, and that's what I'm afraid so the most. What if they resort to something drastic to retaliate the Cascadians? If they can sacrifice an entire battlefleet, who knows how far they're willing to go."

"It's not gonna happen." I insisted to her, "The Federation has morals. We have lines that we won't cross. That's what makes us different from the Cascadians or anyone else. They employ dirty tactics to win against us. They use mercenaries to fight battles that they can't win on their own…"

Camilla immediately cut me off, "Project Wingman's test pilot was a mercenary: the 'bitch' that captain mentioned in his phone talks, if you recall. We aren't above using them as well, you know?"

"That's…that's impossible. You of all people should know how much the captain loathes mercenaries. He'd rather die than having to work with one."

"You were a mercenary, if you remember," Camilla retorted, "And things have changed around here. In case you didn't notice, we are losing this war. The Cascadians have beaten us on almost every front and they're quickly approaching Prospero. We're quickly losing allies left and right. Let's face it, we're desperate for a win right now."

"But that means betraying everything we stood for!"

"We just burned down Grimmwood Forest yesterday, not to mention shooting down the firefighters who were just doing their jobs! Look, I've been flying for the Feds far longer than you, junior. This wasn't something that's easy to accept for me as well, but the truth is the Federation has changed. Just take a look around you and you'll see what I'm talking about."

I sighed, silently conceded that she made a good point. As much as I refused to accept it, all the signs were there. The entire reason this war started in the first place was because Cascadia had had enough of the Federation pushing it around for its cordium supplies – which we spent on making war machines for conquests. Weren't we supposed to be Peacekeepers? Why the hell do we need so many war machines around, then?

We were created to preserve the peace, yet nowadays we played the role of aggressors. We dragged innocent civilians into the crossfire like back at Zhirov Air Corridor and the firefighters yesterday. We apparently worked with mercenaries now, too, if Camilla was right, and we sacrificed an entire fleet for one weapon.

What the hell is going on in this country?

"I'll talk to the captain about this…" I told her. I needed some answers myself, "Here's hoping that I don't get punched in the face again. Once was enough for me."

* * *

_I never got a chance to, though. At least not fast enough to change what's coming._

_You left for Icarus Armories mere moments before I came looking for you in the central building, probably to check out the new toy that Camilla brought for you from Sawaiiki…the one we sacrificed an entire fleet for. The new pilots transferred to our squadron told me that. They also told me that you put me in charge of getting them up to shape while you were away._

_I never really got used to the new guys, which in hindsight, was probably for the best._

_I was actually thankful to see Hamilton getting up and walking again. It's hard to believe that the person I once hated the most would end up as someone who was a sight for sore eyes. Despite getting banged up pretty bad, his spirit still remained somewhat high, and he was itching for a payback himself._

" _If you ask me, Crystal Kingdom had it right." He said after I told him everything Camilla and I discussed earlier, "Desperate times call for desperate measures, and if it wins us the war and rid us of those mercenary dogs that killed our friends, then I don't see any problem with what we're doing, and I think the captain sees that as well."_

_Maybe you did, I don't know. Or maybe both of you just lost your minds._

_Or maybe I was the one who's delusional, still clinging on to my naïve ideal that we can still win this war conventionally and honorably, or that the Federation that I fought and willing to die for was still the noble beacon of light for the world._

_Maybe it never even was. That's the only way to explain the atrocity that was committed at Prospero._

_When we lit the world on fire…_

* * *

"You…you stupid, motherfucking son of a bitch!"

I furiously screamed into the radio, not even caring that I just insulted a five-star general who's in charge of the Peacekeepers himself.

"You murdered a city full of thousands! You killed our own soldiers! You turned this entire country into a literal hell on Earth, and for what!? Just to deny the enemy victory?! Congratulations, asshole! You just became the worst mass murderer in history!"

"Tread lightly, lieutenant," General Torres, the other person on the line responded coldly, "I did what had to be done to protect the security of the Federation. We cannot let the enemy retake Prospero intact, otherwise we'll lose the entire war. We need to show those rebels absolute terror to remind them that they made a mistake taking the fight to us. As a Peacekeeper, you should realize that."

I clenched my grip on the phone as if I was straggling the Torres's neck myself. How dare he to use the 'I did what I had to do' excuse?! So it's alright for us to set the world on fire for the second time just so we could drag the war on a bit longer? Only monsters would do that!

"Alas, Captain Flowers did not see it our way, so he won't be joining us again, ever," The general continued without the slightest shred of regret in his voice, "I'd hate to see the same happened to you, lieutenant. You're a promising pilot, one of the best we have. Don't throw all of it away because of some childish idea of nobility."

"The only one who's childish here is the one who believes he can put out the flames by pouring more fuel into it!" I replied angrily before slamming the phone back before Torres could get another word in. I didn't care if he'd make good on his threat and ordered a hit on me. At least I can die with a clear conscience.

This degenerate disgusted me. This whole Prospero Disaster disgusted me. _Everything_ that had happened in the past few days disgusted me to my core.

This was not the Federation that I joined. No longer is.

Camilla and Hamilton had to physically stop me from thrashing the entire room after that. I can't even go outside to clear my head like I used to anymore. The only thing out there was a picture of apocalypse: the crimson sky above filled with orange lightnings striking all over the place, the sound of thunders echoed like footsteps of giants, and the ground was filled with endless cracks full of lava as far as I can see, as if the Earth itself opened up.

Dr. Scott Dumblauskas, a geological scientist from the University of Presidia, already dubbed the event the Second Calamity. Apparently, the chain reaction created from the cordium warheads had set off volcanic activities in all areas next to the Ring of Fire, which meant much of the Pacific Ocean was probably turned into a wasteland by now, and it was all our fault.

Is this the 'peace' we deserve? Is this what we're fighting for?

A part of me was dreaded for the worse: that you were somehow involved in all this madness and responsible for all of this. Those cordium warheads were engineered by Icarus, and you were working with them on Project Wingman. I didn't want to think about the implications, but I can't afford not to. I cannot let something like this happened again.

"Where the hell is the captain, anyway?" I asked my friends, "We haven't seen him for a week now."

"He's still working on improving the prototype with Icarus," Camilla filled me in, "He mentioned that it's not long now until it's done. Hopefully it can help us finally stop this war and…make this all worth it."

"It will be, Camilla. I'm sure of it." Hamilton reaffirmed, "We can finally avenge everybody who perished fighting those rebels with Project Wingman. The captain won't let us down."

* * *

_If only I had known…If only I had known about what you're going to do…_

_When you returned to base with Project Wingman almost two months later, I instantly knew what you were trying to do with it._

_The cordium-powered PW-Mk.I prototype fighter was a marvel of engineering Its extreme maneuverability put even my top-of-the-line VX-23 to shame, and it possessed an arsenal that could take on a small country…including dozen of cordium warheads._

_You weren't kidding when you said that this project could turn the tide of the war, I'll give you that much. It also terrified the hell out of me for the same reason as well._

_This monstrosity…it was created for one purpose only: complete annihilation._

_And in your hands, it can do much more than that…_

* * *

"…still need some time to work out the systems so it won't fly just yet. I'm planning to have it equipped with the experimental plasma weapon from R&D as well…Hey, are you listening?"

Truth be told, I didn't even listen to much of what you described about your new toy. Instead, I was thinking about all the possibilities of what you're going to do with it, and none of them good.

"Lieutenant, stop slacking off already!" You said again in a colder voice, "This thing could be our chance to finally turn things around, but its weapons don't discriminate. I don't want to see any one of you getting killed by our own weapon, understood?"

"With all due respect, sir, do we really need to use that thing?" I finally asked. Pretty sure I just signed my own death warrant in the process, too, but what the hell? "If that thing is so dangerous to both our enemies _and_ allies, then shouldn't we be better off without it?"

Déjà vu. Hamilton looked at me like I just punched a crocodile in the mouth, again. To be honest, punching a crocodile actually felt like a good idea compared to having to resort to this to win the war.

"We've been through this many times already…" You sighed, "We can't win this war without this project. The enemy's just too overwhelming. So many people have sacrificed their lives to buy us precious time to get it to work, and now you're suggesting that we _don't_ use it? What's your problem, lieutenant?"

"Well, how about I start with the fact that you had a mercenary helping you build it? I thought we were supposed to hate mercenaries, so why are you suddenly okay with the Federation working with one?"

"And you used to be a mercenary, lieutenant! Don't forget your place!" You grabbed me by the collar and pulled me up from the chair, your furious eyes stared straight into my soul, "I gave you a chance. I'm the only reason why you're here with us instead of living on the streets waiting for some bounty hunter to shoot you dead like a rabid dog, and now I'm beginning to think that I made the wrong choice. Did I make the wrong choice, lieutenant?"

"…No, sir." I grudgingly replied back.

I want to think that at least some of what I said made you think about your decisions, to remind you of who you used to be before the war. The look in your eyes, though, told me otherwise. There was no 'you' in there anymore.

My real squadron leader died a long time ago…along with most of my friends back at Bering Strait.

You were just a stranger wearing his body.

* * *

_Two days later, we were ordered to sortie once more. Our destination: Prospero._

_Crystal Kingdom had received intelligence that the rebel forces were planning to retake Prospero once more to use it as a staging operation base to mount their assault on Presidia itself, and we have to stop them at any cost. No points in guessing who would be leading the attack._

_It was a do-or-die operation. Either we succeed in stopping them once and for all, or we die trying._

_Crimson Squadron was now back to full strength thanks to the new transferred pilots, with Camilla and Hamilton rejoining you and me in the skies once more. I was actually thankful that the PW-Mk.I was still not ready to fly at that point, even if it means less chance to win for us. I didn't want a weapon of mass destruction flying right beside me in the air, especially when it's going to be piloted by someone like you._

_By the time we reached Prospero, it was like we arrived at the gates of Hell itself. Even though it's been two months since the disaster, the nearby volcano was still erupting and sprouting lava flows everywhere into the city ruins below, which was filled with nothing but fire and dust. Storm clouds were still forming up with orange lightnings that had since become a hauntingly familiar sight. The worst part about all this? According to Dr. Scott, the worst was supposedly over. If this wasn't the worst it could get, I didn't even want to imagine how it would be like on day zero._

_Heh…me and my big mouth._

* * *

"Unsurprising. They always return to the scene of the crime."

You spoke disdainfully once the three targets appeared into our sights. Even though all those smokes, we could recognize instantly who our opponents were. Only they would be so bold to come here like this.

"Tally-ho on three bandits. It has to be him." One of the new pilots confirmed. Gee, thanks for stating the obvious. Been nice knowing you, by the way.

"Of course, it is." You replied back, clearly sharing my thoughts on the newcomer, "Crimson Squadron, engage. Avenge this land."

We immediately sprang into action. The last time, we made the mistake to think that numbers would be our advantage against the Crown. This time, we didn't even try to engage him directly. You said it yourself: this was your fight. This was between you and him. That means his two less skilled merc friends were the ones we went after this time.

Four planes went after the plane with the jester, the other three kept the plane with the peace symbol occupied, while you kept Monarch himself at bay while we systematically tried to eliminate each opponent one by one, and words were your weapon this time.

"Sheep are to be protected, and yet wolves like you have to be fed," You began taunting your enemy through the open radio channel. I could almost see the grin on your face as you spoke out each word like poison, "Do you see the problem here? We are the sheepdogs!"

"Sheepdogs herd the sheep to slaughter, you asshole!" A female voice – the jester – replied back angrily. Somehow that statement took me back for a moment: she just called all of us out that we weren't so different from them…that we were just as responsible for all this chaos as they did.

And she was absolutely right.

Monarch avoided your relentless attacks and went after one of the pilots chasing the peace symbol plane. Probably recognized that the pilot was new and less experienced. Once again, he turned our own tactic against us.

"Come back here! You've made this personal…" You taunted. At last, the truth came out.

You continued to pursue him, yet Monarch didn't even give you notice as he continued to chase after the new pilot, firing one salvo of missiles after another, eventually shooting him down soon after.

"We lost Crimson 6!" Someone yelled in a panic, "Captain, what should we do?!"

But you didn't even notice that. You were too busy trying to stay on Monarch's tail, not even thinking about the lost wingman. Being ignored was a worse insult to you in your eyes.

"I should've killed you when I had the chance," You spoke coldly, firing yet another pair of missiles at the enemy, who pulled a Pugachev's Cobra and dodged them both effortlessly. It only served to make you angrier.

"If I had killed you over Yellowstone, this war would've been over by now!" You continued, "It was a mistake. I intend to correct that."

"Please, captain, help us!" Another new pilot called out. The jester managed to break free from the dogfight and went on to assist her wingman, "We can't handle them on our own!"

Once again, you ignored their pleas completely.

"They called me obsessed. Now, they call me their solution."

I resisted the urge to shout back at him. _Of course,_ _you're obsessed!_ You were so obsessed with one single enemy to even notice that your comrade in arms were in danger. You deluded yourself into thinking that it was your destiny to take on the Crown! That's all there is to it!

"At the end of the day, you're just a criminal, looking for your next handout!"

_Shut up._

"You've taken too much! You'll lose everything in turn!"

_Just shut up already! This was not helping at all!_

"The world will prove you wrong, even if you win this war. But it's not like you'll live to see it, mercenary!"

_How did you even know he's out here proving anything!? You lost your goddamn mind!_

Crimson 3 and 4 were both shot down soon after by the Crown and the jester while you were too busy trash-talking, allowing their wingman to get away and rejoin the battle. The once less skilled member of the mercenary team suddenly became much more aggressive. We pissed him off bad.

Or more accurately, _you_ did.

"Just think! How many have you killed!?"

"God, just shut up!" A new male voice yelled over the radio furiously, coming from the plane with the peace symbol. He was trailing Crimson 8 with a renewed zeal, and eventually managed to shoot him down.

"How dare-!?"

"SHUT UP! Nobody asked!" The enemy continued his rant, and for once, I was inclined to agree, "You think we asked specifically to fight you!? You think I care so much to keep fighting you!?"

"You're wild dogs! Of course!" You screamed back in response, finally letting Monarch out of your sight for the first time since the battle began. You set your sight on the man who slighted you instead.

"SHUT UP! Just shut up! Fight us! Don't talk! I don't care! SHUT UP!"

Both of you had officially gone insane.

"Crimson 5, missile! Get out of the way!" Camilla shouted. I was too distracted by the verbal shouting match that I didn't notice that the Crown managed to sneak up behind me. I tried ducking out of the way, but it was too late. The missile exploded somewhere next to my right wing, almost tearing the whole thing off.

"Shit! My right wing's smoking!" I cried out as my plane shook violently, "Son of a bitch!"

"Crimson 5, get out of there!" Camilla pleaded. Strange that the ice cold queen of the squadron ended up caring more about me than my own leader did, "I'll cover you!"

"Negative! Stay on your target!" I told her, "I can handle this!"

Monarch was still chasing my tail viciously, and with a damaged right wing, it was extremely hard to evade his gunfire. I was done and I knew it. I couldn't fight the enemy like this, and bailing out on this landscape was suicide just like back at Yellowstone. All I could do now was to stay airborne and take the Crown's attention away from the others as long as possible.

Unfortunately, Hamilton just had to end up making the stupidest mistake ever.

"Crimson 5, this is 2! I'm coming at you head-on!" He said confidently, "I'll get this guy off your back!"

"No, you idiot! It's too dangerous!"

I tried to warn him, but it was too late. Hamilton was already on a collision course and I had no choice but to break out of the way, leaving him wide open to the Crown himself.

"I got you!"

Two missiles were fired from Crimson 2's plane. The Crown dodged them with a perfect barrel roll before immediately returning the favor with a pair of missiles of his own.

"Oh fu—"

Hamilton's plane was turned into scrap metals in seconds. There was no chute deployed.

_Hamilton, you dumb bastard!_

The Crown continued his pursuit of me once again. I braced myself for the inevitable.

"I've got your back!"

Camilla's voice came over the radio once again. I turned to look back and saw her plane chasing after Monarch, with the jester in hot pursuit.

"Crimson 7, what are you doing!?"

"I'm not leaving you alone, goddamnit!" Camilla cried out, "I don't want to see any more friends die!"

_Camilla…_

She fired a pair of missiles at the Crown, which actually got him to back off for a while, allowing you to go back to chasing him once again. Unfortunately, it also left her completely open to the jester. She was a sitting duck.

"See you on the other side, buddy…"

"Camilla, no!"

The jester fired her missiles, both of them hitting Camilla directly. Her plane turned into flaming debris as it spun out of control, plunging into the inferno down below.

_Not again…not you too._

My mind turned completely blank. I didn't remember much of what I was doing at that point. It was like my entire body became automated. I turned my plane around and went straight for the jester.

"You're gonna pay for that…"

I gritted my teeth. My finger rested firmly on the missile trigger. I didn't even care any more if I live or die. All I know was that I had to take the bitch who killed Camilla down with me.

Even that was taken away from me in the end.

"Crimson 5, watch out! Missile!" Another rookie pilot warned me, but it made no difference at all.

Missile alerts started blaring in my cockpit. The plane with the peace symbol was right after me, missiles already fired. Thanks to my broken wing, I had no chance to escape.

It was all over.

_Ilya…Rena…Camilla…I'm so sorry…_

* * *

_I should've died that day…but I didn't._

_The missile struck right into my engines, sending it barreling towards the ground. I somehow managed to regain enough control to force a belly landing somewhere in the woods, which was fortunate enough to be far away from all the flames in Prospero. I passed out almost immediately upon impact. By the time I came to, I was no longer within my plane._

_A couple of civilians dragged me out of there and nursed me back to health. They were Cascadians most likely natives of Prospero themselves, for some reason still living there. They were the ones who saved me._

_They said I was out for hours. When I woke up, the battle in the skies was already over. The Federation Peacekeepers – everyone in Crimson Squadron – were all shot down by the three mercenary fighters. They told me they couldn't find anybody else. For all they knew, I was the sole survivor._

_The Cascadian forces already moved in to secure Prospero, and it was only a matter of time before they move on to Presidia. I didn't know if the couple were planning to hand me over to the rebels or not, so I decided to sneak out of their home at the first opportunity. At least I didn't steal their car._

_For three weeks, I struggled to survive in the hellish landscape, trying to make my way to the nearest Federation outpost. Had a lot of time to be by myself, so naturally I got a lot of time to think._

_Those mercenaries…I hated them for killing my friends, yes, but were they really in the wrong?_

" _Sheepdogs herd the sheep to slaughter, you asshole!"_

" _You think we asked specifically to fight you!? You think I care so much to keep fighting you!?"_

_This entire goddamn war…this whole shitshow…nobody asked for this._

_Not the Cascadians. Not the Federation. Hell, not even those mercenaries._

_They were all just dealing with the consequences of power in the wrong hands. The power of world leaders who played monopoly with resources and played politics like a simulation, which led to one short-sighted decision after another that led all of us into this mess._

_And we…the so-called Peacekeepers…were only a means to an end. We never truly fight for peace. Not once. That's just a good ol' propaganda tactic. Everyone wants to picture their own side as this noble idealistic crusader, and their enemies as cruel warmongers looking out only for themselves. That's how it has been since the dawn of time, even before the First Calamity. Hell, I won't be surprised if the first time the world burned, it happened because of something like this, too._

_Peacekeepers and mercenaries…there's no difference between us. In the end, we all fight for someone else's agenda, whether it's for a worthy cause or not – if there is even such a thing. We don't care because it's not our job to care, and that's the reason why the world is so broken right now._

_So many problems caused simply by the words "not my problem"._

_And so…you decided that it's time to finally do something about it._

* * *

"…Captain?"

I couldn't believe who I was seeing. I thought it was an illusion at first.

But you weren't an illusion. You were standing right there…in the base hangar that was now devoid of people. Everyone else must have had already evacuated.

"There you are, lieutenant…" You spoke softly, managing a small smile. For a brief moment, I thought I had the old you back once again, "I was starting to think that nobody else but me made it back."

"There's nobody else? Camilla? Hamilton? Did nobody make it back at all?"

Your smile disappeared as you shook your head lightly, providing the answer I dreaded.

How come I was the only one who always survived? Why not Camilla? Or Rena? Or Ilya? Or even Hamilton? What did I do to deserve to live while those people didn't?

"So…it's finally over." I said, trying my best not to sound too broken up in front of you, "The Cascadians are moving in on Presidia today. They even got reinforcements from across the sea if the rumors are true, too. With the Crown leading them, this war is as good as lost already."

"Lost? What are you talking about, lieutenant? This is our finest hour!"

You said excitedly, which was very surprisingly to me. What the blazes prompted you to say something like that at a times like this?

"What…?"

"Don't you see? Our enemies are now gathered in one place. We can wipe them all out in one swift strike!" You explained with a wide, uncomfortable grin on your face, "Especially that hellspawn Monarch…Oh, he'd be there as well…I'm gonna enjoy yanking that sweet victory away from him."

"What the hell are you talking about!?"

You didn't answer. Instead, you walked over to the sole remaining plane in the hangar, which was wrapped under dark blue cover. With several pulls, you peeled it all away, revealing your trump card beneath it.

"Project Wingman is finally ready." You said as you placed your hand on the plane almost lovingly, "She's a beauty, isn't she? With her help, we now have a chance to take back everything, and those traitors? They'll get what they deserve. This is what everyone's been fighting for all this time."

"Everyone? Look around you! EVERYONE IS DEAD!" I shouted at you in disbelief. Even now, you _still_ thought about getting revenge, "There's nothing left to fight for, and getting more people killed won't change that! It won't bring anyone back. It won't win us the war!"

You weren't even listening to me anymore as you climbed up into the cockpit, "No…this is the chance to show the world our true potential…to show them what the Federation is really made of!"

"The world already hated us! Everything we did…every atrocity we committed…If you go through with this, it will spell doom for us all! You'd be handing them its greatest defeat yet, and for what!? Just so you can get even with your nemesis!?"

"SO WHAT IF I AM!?" You finally snapped back, "He's the one solely responsible for putting all of us in this mess! He's the one who forced me to this! He's a threat to our very existence, and you're expecting me to let him live!? Not on my watch!"

"Goddamn it…you're too blinded…"

That was it. I had to do something. I won't let you go through with this madness. I won't let another Calamity occurred.

I reached for my sidearm…before aiming it as the person that I used to trust and believe in…

"Get. Out. Of. The plane. Captain…" I ordered sternly, my pistol pointed directly at his head, "I won't ask you again."

That finally got your attention. You turned to look at me, your expression one of extreme disappointment. The pain of this mutual betrayal was clear on our faces, but deep down we both know that this was inevitable.

"Why, Larry? I trusted you, buddy."

"So did I, Erich…" I said softly, tears started forming in my eyes, "I owed you everything in my life, damn it…I couldn't get to where I am today without you…but I can't let you go through with this…You're better than this, Erich."

"I'm doing this for all of us, Larry." You replied, "I don't want to be your enemy, and I know you don't want to, either. Please don't get in my way."

"I can't, sir…You're unfit for duty and I have to relieve you, captain…" I insisted firmly, my hands gripped on the pistol. I've failed too many things in life already. I cannot fail this task, too. The lives of everyone in this country were depending on me.

"You once taught me that true quality of someone can only be measured by how far they're willing to go for nothing," I continued, "If you're still the same person who taught me these words, then please prove it. I'm not asking you to go far. I'm only asking you to step out of this plane."

For almost a minute, we just stood there staring at each other, unaware of what to do next.

After what seemed like an eternity, you finally complied and climbed out of the cockpit.

"Alright, Larry…you won…"

You said wearily as you walked across the hangar towards a small chair, picked it up, and sat on it. I still kept my pistol trained on him. I knew better than to let my guard down in front of the Federation's best pilot.

"Did I ever tell you that I am Cascadian?" You began, which admittedly took me by surprise for a split second, but it wasn't enough for you to try anything. You were trying to distract me and it wasn't gonna work, "I joined the Federation willingly because I honestly believed in its cause and what it stood for, even if it means I have to go up against my own people. In a way, you and I aren't so different, Larry. You were a merc, but you joined us to fight your fellow mercs because you believed in the Federation, too."

"Difference is I'm not blinded to its faults if I can see them, Erich," I retorted, "I'm willing to see the world from another perspective before I decide who's right or wrong, but you're too consumed by hatred to accept anything else other than what you believed in."

"Oh, you don't really believe that, buddy. We all have something that we believe in so strongly, we'll dismiss anything that doesn't fit our narrative, and you are no exception," You said with a sly smile, "For example, June 6th, AC 404…the day your parents died when a fighter jet crashed into your house after a training accident…"

"What…how did you…"

"That's a lie. I was the one who shot down that jet…"

_Fuck._

I should have seen it coming a mile away…yet I didn't, and a second of confusion was all you need…

_**BANG!** _

I felt a sharp pain in my gut. My body suddenly shivered. I instinctively dropped my gun and looked down. There was a gaping hole in my chest…a bullet wound…

I felt dizzy as I dropped to my knees. You stood up from the chair before putting the concealed pistol that you hid in your flight jacket away, before walking towards me and putting a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry for this, Larry. I truly am," You spoke, "But I've come too far to stop now…"

I didn't know if it was just my mind playing tricks on me or not, but I felt a hint of regret in your voice. It didn't make any difference, either way.

I've failed yet again, and it looked like this would be the last time.

I fell onto the floor in a pool of my own blood, coughing again and again as I was slowly losing myself away…

" _Please remember who I used to be, Larry…"_

Your voice sounded like it came from a faraway place…

And the last thing I heard before I lost myself completely was the sounds of the PW-Mk.I starting up its engines

" _Remember me…"_

* * *

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_Somehow I survived once again...I'm starting to think that I'm cursed with immortality._

_Time and time again, I survived something that should've killed me, while others who were far more deserving to live than me all dropped like flies, like my friends._

" _The lowest scums of the Earth, even the Dust Mother herself will spit them back out and barred them from the flames of rebirth for the rest of their pathetic existence."_

_That's what you used to describe mercenaries like me, and you know what? Maybe you were actually right on this one. The Dust Mother herself wanted to punish someone like me for everything I've failed to do…to see the result of those failures with my own eyes._

_Presidia was ultimately annihilated thanks to my failure to stop you. Cascadians, Federation, it didn't matter. Your insanity compelled you to blow them all sky high anyway, even though both sides had already declared a ceasefire and signaling the end of the war._

_Thousands of soldiers dead and wounded, millions of innocents perished, the entire country of Cascadia utterly broken and its people swearing vengeance on the Federation, the rest of the world turning on us for our numerous war crimes including yours._

_These were the results of your vengeance._

_The Pacific Federation's collapse is only a matter of time now, and the power vacuum that would follow will result in many countries rising up to fill that massive void, which is not helped by the high demand for mercenaries after the war's end. It actually might just be better for all of us if there's a Third Calamity that could put us all out of our misery already._

_And me…heh…what the hell am I supposed to do in this brave new world?_

_I won't go back to being a mercenary. Not anymore. That life is over for me. Yet there is no future for me in the Federation, either._

_This new world will be one full of conflicts. All the losses we suffered in the war with Cascadia will be nothing compared to what's coming. The cycles of death and destruction will start spinning again…and again…and again… There can never be peace in such a world._

_And it's all because we can't accept each other's differences…because we want to impose our will onto others whether they like it or not…and for that, resistance is inevitable. When resistance is inevitable, then conflict is a foregone conclusion._

_Well, I am so fucking tired of that shit right now._

_Maybe I'm still alive for a reason – the reason why the Dust Mother didn't wrap me into her embrace just yet – because she has one last task for me to do._

_And this time I will not fail again._

_This twisted game needs to be reset._

_It's time that we all start over from zero once more and remove the source of that which has always divided us._

_It's time for a world with no boundaries._

**Author's Note:**

> Longest. Oneshot. Ever. When I first came up with this, I didn't expect it to be this long at all. Ah, well xD.
> 
> So, yeah, my first and probably my last Project Wingman fanfic (for now) and gotta say that I had a lot of fun writing this one! It's vastly different in tone from all other fanfics of mine, which stay mostly on the hopeful side. Well, not the case with this one lol, cuz Imma go all depressing on y'all xD. Hey. That's how the game made me felt after finishing it! Don't blame me!
> 
> In a way, this is also a tribute to the Ace Combat series as well, as I'm sure you can notice from character names, some references, and of course the ending. I figured it'd be interesting to tell a story from the antagonist's perspective, but with them believing that they're the protagonists of the story. I always liked stories like that. As they say, everyone believes themselves to be a hero in their own stories, which I'm sure also applies to the madlad Crimson 1 as well (CRIMSON 1 YOU GODDAMN NARCISTIC BASTARD!).
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed my story! And thank you everyone at Sector D2 and all involved for creating this wonderful game that is a loving tribute to a niche genre of gaming. Though there are some hiccups here and there and honestly, I didn't dig the story all that much, it's still a great experience all the same, so great work to everyone! And cheers to fellow AC and PW fans! Thanks for reading and reviews!


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